As You Are
by Huhn
Summary: Cruel words from Erk and others cause Serra to fall into depression and make some very drastic changes to her personality. How will the party react to this newlook Serra? Can stoic Dorcas of all people help her out? Completed!
1. I

**As You Are**

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**Disclaimer – I don't own Fire Emblem. Nintendo and Intelligent Systems do.**

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**A/N – Welcome! This is my first Fire Emblem fic and it stars Serra and Dorcas – two of the less popular characters, but who were key members of my Fire Emblem troop. Serra was always my chief healer and Dorcas, my best warrior bar Florina. Nothing could withstand the unstoppable might of his axe! - Anyway, it takes place during Lyn's storyline. It's doesn't matter exactly when, but it's after most of the characters have joined and may contain a few, relatively light, spoilers for the game. Please feel free to say what you think. All comments are very much appreciated, even criticism. **

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**Incidentally the title is also the name of a Travis song, which I didn't originally intend but it seemed to fit. Good song actually. Hell, that whole album's great. - **

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**Please enjoy. **

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It had been a hard day's walk. Ever since dawn, they'd been trudging up and down an endless crop of hills underneath a merciless summer sun. It had been a punishing schedule, necessary to make up lost time from yesterday's battle, and over the course of the day, morale had plummeted like a pheasant in the hunting season. So when Lyn finally announced it was time to stop and make camp, the euphoric cheer from her troops came as no surprise at all.

Camp was quickly set up and the companions set about relaxing themselves and resting the aching feet (or rear ends in the cases of Kent, Sain and Rath, the horsemen). Dorcas chose this opportunity to sharpen his favourite axe. It didn't need it, but he was a man who enjoyed a task and bored quickly when none was available. It gave him something purposeful to do while he enjoyed the cool summer breeze, the fading daylight sky and the cheerful singsong of the crickets.

He enjoyed beautiful evenings like this one. It reminded him of many summer nights past, when he and Natalie would just sit out on their porch together and look up at the stars, so ever prominent in the unspoilt sky. They would stay in each others arms for hours, just talking to one another. They would start with simple things, such as their respective days just gone by. Then over the course of the evening, the conversation would become deeper and deeper and they would discuss the future or their feelings about anything, especially each other. Those were the only times when stoic Dorcas would set his emotions free and because of that, they were the times when his Nathalie was the happiest. He remembered how her sparkling laugh came when he made a funny comment and how sometimes she would shed tears of joy, simply because it was such a wonderful evening and she was sharing it with the man she loved. And then, as the hours became small, he would carry her to bed and they would bring the love in their hearts to a more physical level.

Yes, evenings like this made life worth living, Dorcas mused. If he'd had his wife in one hand and a cold glass of beer in the other right now, this evening would have been heaven on earth.

For now though, he'd have to make do with his present company. They weren't his wife, but they were the next best thing, those friends of his. Group Leader Lyn and Davidos, their tactician, were crouched, as ever, over their map of the land, pondering tomorrow's agenda. Nils was helping out by holding a torch to give them light. By the campfire Erk, Wil and Mathew were playing a game of cards (by the looks of things Mathew was tapping the other two dry, no doubt though foul means). Most of the others were in their tents resting up, though he did see Serra walking off by herself into the wood beside the camp. Probably to do some 'private business' Dorcas decided, deliberately turning his head from her with a twitch of embarrassment.

He went back to sharpening his pride and joy and soon a little voice interrupted his labour.

"Um…"

He looked up from his work to see Florina, standing before him wringing her hands nervously. She stared fixedly down at her feet refusing to meet his eyes. "Um," she repeated timidly.

"Yes?" he asked her. His voice came out gruff, though he didn't mean it to.

"Um, excuse me," the little Pegasus knight said in what barely qualified as a whisper. "You haven't seen Serra have you? Lyn asked me to find her. She and Sain are meant to be cooking tonight."

Dorcas nodded his head towards to the trees. "She went in there just now."

"Oh. I see," Florina said, looking over. "Then I'll wait for her to come back. Thank you,"

"I'll send her over when I see her," Dorcas assured her.

"Thank you…" Florina peeped before scuttling away like a frightened rabbit. Dorcas watched her go with a frown. Even after all their travels together, Florina still feared men. Others found her shyness endearing, but it just frustrated him that she couldn't relax in male company. He sincerely hoped she'd learn how to before she became an old lonely maid.

As he'd promised her, he kept an eye on the wood for any sign of their spunky pink-haired healer. However, even after several minutes had passed she still hadn't come out. Dorcas glanced over the camp to see if she'd returned under his nose, but no, she wasn't there either. She was still out and about then? How strange.

For a horrible moment he wondered if she'd been attacked while away from the group. It didn't seem likely – the wood was tiny so they would have heard any serious scuffle, especially since there was no way Serra would have been quiet under threat. Plus they'd checked it thoroughly for signs of life before setting up camp as a precaution, but had found nothing but a few chipmunks and a menacing looking pinecone. Her absence was still suspicious though, so Dorcas hefted his axe onto his shoulder and headed over to investigate.

He trod cautiously through the black oaks, making very little sound for a man of his size. His muffled footsteps were the only sound, aside from one hooting owl and the distant noise from their camp. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn this wood was deserted. He was too proud to call out her name, so instead he hunted her with stealth and sharp eyes. After all, if she was still conducting her 'private business' he'd want to see her first so he could make a quick and quiet retreat.

_"Where is she?" _he thought as he wandered along._ "Is she even here? I certainly hope she hasn't been kidnapped. I'm in no mood to go chasing after anyone right now."_

That's when he heard it. The rapid snuffling of a person weeping, ever so clear in the quiet of the dark wood. Dorcas immediately strode in its direction to investigate.

The sound brought him out the other side of the wood to the top of a steep rock face, where, to his utmost relief, he found Serra. The pink-haired cleric was sitting by herself on a flat boulder, looking out over the endless grassy plains before her. For a moment though he didn't think it was her, for the miserable expression on her face certainly didn't belong to the Serra they knew.

Yes. It was beyond belief.

Serra's smile had been broken

Ever-cheerful Serra was _crying_.

The sight caught Dorcas off guard and he instinctively stepped back. What kind of crazy happening could make their Serra so upset? The young cleric was always so bouncy, so positive come rain or shine. She wasn't meant to be the one who needed cheering up, she was meant to be the one they needed to cheer _them_ up! So when the group's designated smiley person was found with her face in her hands, it was a rare and serious situation that needed to be resolved.

Dorcas swallowed nervously. This was really more the territory of Lyn or Lucius, dealing with people problems. He was more of the workhorse. Point his axe in the right direction and he was happy. He was never a graceful speaker at the best of times and dealing with a weeping woman certainly didn't rank in his list of special skills.

All the same it felt wrong to leave her alone in this state, even for a few moments. A side of him wanted to take the easy route out, to return to the camp and pretend that he'd hadn't found her and seen her crying. But his other side, the infuriatingly compassionate side, wanted to help her out. That side won, just like it always did.

He walked out into the open.

"Miss Serra," he said, announcing his presence so he wouldn't startle her.

Serra's head shot up. Her hands wiped her eyes as a reflex, smearing the tears all over her face. While sadness was predominant on her face, a touch of disbelief was there too. Dorcas clearly wasn't the person she'd expected to come after her.

"Oh Dorcas," she mumbled, trying to put on a composed façade. "What's up?"

He didn't reply at first, instead walking over to stand beside her and to look out at the view this vantage point gave them. It was easier than looking straight at the upset girl. "You're crying," he said simply.

Serra looked away from him, but didn't deny it. "Yeah-huh."

"Is something the matter?"

"What do you think? I wouldn't be sitting here crying for no reason now, would I?"

He didn't let her petulance get to him. "So what is it?" he asked.

She blew her nose before taking a breath and blurting, "It…it…it's ERK!"

Ah, the purple-haired mage and Serra's unrequited friend. Made sense that she'd be upset over him, if anyone. "So what's he done?" Dorcas asked.

Upset as she was, she could only talk between gasps. "He…he called me a real _nuisance!_ In front of everyone!"

"Is that all?" Dorcas murmured, not impressed. He'd actually been present when that had happened earlier today. She'd taken it well enough at the time, by his recollection.

"Not that's not all!" Serra wailed, shaking her head hard enough for her ponytails to whip her cheeks. "I figured he was just joking so I sought him out later to set the record straight. And I thought it would funny to surprise him, so I crept up behind him. But as I did, I heard him talking with the other boys. He said he was getting really tired of my attitude. Wil agreed and said I was the most annoying person he'd ever met. And that Matthew, do you know what he said? He said he'd sooner _eat a_ _cowpat_ than look at my smile again! He actually said that! A gross stinking cowpat rather than my smile! Can you believe it?"

"Well, you're not smiling now," Dorcas said, quite unnecessarily.

"They're such mean boys," Serra sniffed into the back of her hand. "They're mean, mean, _mean!_"

"It was mean to talk of you that way behind your back," he admitted. Gentlemen that he was, he would never have dreamed of speaking ill of a lady, even out of her earshot.

Serra sighed and huddled her knees to her chest. "But I guess they're right in the end. I _am_ annoying aren't I? I'm nothing more than a useless ditz who talks everyone's ear off and is only good to have around when someone needs a paper-cut healed. It's no wonder they don't like me."

Dorcas face was still set gruffly, hiding his discomfort. "You shouldn't overreact," he muttered. "A few people's opinions shouldn't bother you that much."

"It's not just them though. _No-one_ likes me," she sniffled.

"You know that's not true," he stated flatly. He could only humour her self-pity up to a point.

"Oh really?" Serra said, her face suddenly hardening into that of an interrogator. "Then let me ask you this Dorcas. Does my attitude bother you? And be honest. Don't spare my feelings or anything."

Dorcas paused fatally, caught in between truth and tact. "….no," he replied feebly.

Serra looked away from him, shaking her head in slow sorrow. "You're a very poor liar Dorcas. I can tell you agree with them, it's written all over you."

Caught out, Dorcas confessed. "Sometimes you can grate a little on the nerves. But I mean that in the nicest possible sense," he added quickly.

"Oh PUL-lease Dorcas! Say what you really mean! You can't stand me, just like everyone else, that's what you want to say!" She threw her head back, showering fresh tears into the air, and yelled, _"The world hates me!"_

Dorcas found himself backing away from her at this outburst. _You really should have left this to Lyn_, he told himself. She would have saved the situation by now, not made it worse like he had. But it was too late now. In this state, there was no way he could leave her alone. He clenched his teeth in desperation. He could deal with enemy warriors from dawn to dusk, but an emotional woman was a whole world more difficult. What could he do for her?

"I don't want to be someone that everyone hates," she blubbered, dabbing her flooded eyes pathetically. "I want everyone to love me. That's not too much to ask, is it?"

"You can only be yourself Serra," he said quietly, unsure of what else he could say. "You can't change who you are, just to make people like you."

To his surprise, that brought an instant reaction from Serra. Her head snapped up and at him, eyes distant in wonder. Her mouth dropped open in awe, but then spoke decisively.

"That's it! You're a genius Dorcas!" Though her eyes were still red and seeping, a trace of impish manner had returned to her. "They don't like my cheerful nature? Well, that's fine. I'll just have to _change _who I am!_"_

"What do you mean by that?" Dorcas asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

Serra smiled, the first smile he'd seen from her this evening. "It's simple. They don't like Serra, so let's be rid of her! And in her place we'll have someone else, someone who's a misery guts just like them. That's it. I'll become the anti-me! My complete opposite. No more will I be Serra the cheerful cleric, I am now Arres the gloomy gus!"

"Ahr…rez?" he inquired.

"Yes, Arres! Serra reversed! That way, everyone will be happier and no-one will be chowing down on cowpats!" she said rubbing her hands with gleeful anticipation.

"Serra…"

"Ah ah ah!" she chided him with a wagging finger. "It's Arres now."

He didn't humour her. "Serra, what you're thinking of doing is madness."

"No it's not, it's my ticket to popularity! Hey, wait a moment," she said with a thoughtful finger on her lip. "Arres isn't that nice to people," Her eyes narrowed and her face shrivelled up as she forced a frown so untypical of her. "Mind your own business, jerk!"

Dorcas couldn't help but cringe. Evil did _not_ look good on Miss Serra. She kept her scowl on him though as she stood up from her rock. "Now if you'll excuse me you muscle-brained dolt, I have a meal to prepare," Turning her back on him, she strode away, nose haughtily in the air. Dorcas's eyes squirmed anxiously in their sockets as he watched her go.

_"She's not even joking. She's fully intent on becoming someone else,"_ he sighed in his mind. He began to follow her back to camp, slowly, for he knew there was nothing more he could say right now to change her mind. Whether she was Serra or Arres now, she was still as determined as ever. Only now that determination wasn't channelled into a positive spirit and released harmlessly through silly banter and giggles, it would now be a malevolent weapon in the hands of a very confused young woman. Dorcas sighed with true regret. God help the rest of the party when the anti-Serra, this Arres, was unleashed on them.


	2. II

**A/N – Thanks for the reviews everyone! Got a nice haul for that first bit, so I'm happy! Hope you guys will keep reading!**

**Unknown Author Guy – maybe you're right, Wil wouldn't say that. But I needed a third 'lad' and besides, giving him a little personality can't hurt! -**

**NOFSER – Shoujo ai?**** Where did _that_ come from? 00' Anyway, given that Dorcas and Serra are the main characters, and Serra isn't in any mood to start hitting on anyone now (and certainly not on any of the girls!), the chances of shoujo ai in this fic seem slim at best! Never mind eh?**

"Hey guys! Grub up!" Sain called.

"All right!" Wil cried. Everyone in the whole party dropped what they were doing and came running. As was fast becoming usual, dinner was far later than expected and by now everyone was ravenous. The boys raced to head the dinner queue (which Matthew always seemed to sneak to the front of, somehow) and stood, clutching their plates eagerly. When the women, and the more dignified men (Dorcas included) had arrived as well, Sain and Serra (or should that have been Arres?) started to dish up.

Dorcas was the last to be served (the price of being a gentlemen). After he received his portion, he went and sat down over by Rath, took a bite from the derisory meal on his plate and could tell at once that it was the work of Arres, not Serra. The fish, though thoroughly cooked, was plain, totally devoid of all seasoning and spice, and the potatoes with it were wet and soggy. Worse still, it was chock-full of bones making it near impossible to take a bite without having your mouth stabbed in several places from within. The more elegant eaters in the group were really struggling to remove them while retaining their table manners. Both Kent and Lucius kept pretending to cough so they could use their hands as cover. From the looks on people's faces, Dorcas could tell the general consensus on this meal. It was deplorable at best, a poor reward for the long day's efforts.

Only Rath was untactful enough to speak the thought on everyone's minds. He started by spitting out a spiky mouthful of bones into the tree next to him. "This fish is really bony," he stated, in a tone as bland as the fish's favour.

"Hey, don't look at me!" Sain protested as all heads turned his way. "I just grilled the bloody things! Serra was in charge of de-boning!"

Everyone looked to the pink-haired healer. She didn't even meet their eyes, just shrugged and kept on eating. "Pick them out yourself," she muttered between mouthfuls. "Why should I have to waste my valuable time doing it?"

"Maybe because you're the damned cook," Erk muttered, glaring at her.

"Shut your face Erk,"

Dorcas winced. Erk gasped indignantly, but said nothing more, while tangible concern sprang onto the faces of others around the fire. Lyn, Florina and Lucius all looked horrified. Who could blame them? That had been totally out of characters for their chirpy healer, as was this so-called meal she'd prepared for them. Usually she went to obscene levels with her cooking, chasing her cooking partner out of the kitchen so she could single-handedly create culinary masterpieces, with plenty of spices (no-one knew where she got them from) and often a side-salad as well. The dinner currently on their laps barely qualified as adequate, iron to the usual gold she dished up.

And furthermore, she was _never_ hostile with them. Never ever ever.

"Well, I think this meal tastes great," Lyn put in lamely, more to keep the peace than anything else. Lucius backed her up with a nod though everyone else just murmured indiscernibly. To compliment this meal would be to lie.

Once the meal had ended (without dessert – another deviation from Serra's normal service) the party dispersed, many of them making straight for their tents. Most of them would be heading straight for their sleeping sacks, but Dorcas was willing to bet that plenty of them would be snacking first – he as well was still hungry. He was about to head for his own tent where he'd saved an apple when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Nils heading in Serra's direction. The poor kid seemed oblivious to the trap he was walking into.

_"Brave boy,"_ he thought. _"Or should that be foolish boy? Maybe naïve boy would be fairest." _

He was too late to interfere, but he decided to watch. The boy came up behind the cleric, who was collecting up the dirty plates, and tugged innocently on her dress to get her attention.__

"Um, Miss Serra?"

She whirled on him like a startled cat. "What is it?" she snapped irritably.

Nils shrank back in shock, his face suddenly alight with fear and disbelief at this scary Serra. "Oh, it's nothing really," he mumbled.

"Come on, out with it," she demanded wearily. "If it was important enough to bother me then it's important enough for you to spit it out!"

"Er…well," Nils stammered. "I…was…wondering if you could take a look at my arm. I scratched it quite badly on a thorn earlier on and it's still hurting a bit." He rolled his sleeve back to reveal a long thin trail of red stretching up to his elbow. It _did_ look sore.

With a tired huff, she grabbed his arm and yanked it towards her with such abruptness that he almost fell forward. For the briefest moment she looked it over, then she tossed his wrist away with a snort of disgust, as though it was a folded hand in a poker game.

"Why are you bothering me with that little nick!?" she barked. "I am a fully-fledged cleric with more skill than any three physicians you can name put together! And yet you have the nerve to come to me with that tiny boo-boo and expect to be treated! How disrespectful!" Her eyes took on a feline aggression, she was hissing like an angry cat now. "Go on, go away and get your big sister to kiss it better!"

Nils eyes bulged, as if she'd slapped him. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he mumbled, ducking his head in disgrace and scuttling away with humility in his steps. Ninian, who'd been standing nearby and had heard the exchange, moved quickly to comfort him.

Even though he'd already known of Serra's intentions before hand, Dorcas was shocked. That was the most un-Serra-like thing she could have ever done. When they were in battle, she'd be waving that staff of hers around like a feather duster, healing everyone within reach, even those who didn't need it. For her to refuse to treat someone, even for a minor injury, was simply unheard of.

_"Unheard of for Serra that is.__ Not for Arres." _

But he looked at her then and saw that she wasn't Arres yet, at least not completely. So far Arres was a superficial being. For though she tried to hide it, and would have denied it empathically if questioned, there was a deep pain in Serra's eyes as she watched Nils flee. Pain that struck through to the very core of her compassionate nature. She had turned a patient away, perhaps the first time she'd ever done so. But she had the heart of a healer and so it had hurt her to refuse her services to someone, especially just for the sake of image. The longing shimmering gaze that followed the boy betrayed her feelings and Dorcas could tell that she wanted to cry.

_"No matter how she pretends, she is still Serra inside and always will be,"_ Dorcas thought to himself. _"She suffers as Arres. How long will she keep this charade going on for?"_

As he was thinking, she caught him staring at her. "What are _you_ looking at? You have a problem Dorcas?" she accused him, suddenly Arres again after that momentary lapse.

He remained unperturbed and gruff. "Only one of us here has a problem right now," he murmured with folded arms.

"Hmmph!" Serra turned her nose up at him and strode away, just as she'd done to him earlier. Dorcas watched her go then retired to his tent, hoping that a decent night's sleep would bring the true Serra back out and wipe out Arres before she could hurt anyone else (including Serra herself) more than she already had. As he lay down on his sleeping roll and closed his eyes, he spared a thought for whichever poor fool would be sharing their tent with a demon tonight.


	3. III

The sun rose on a new day, but Serra's spirits didn't rise with it. She was silent for the whole morning's walk. Dorcas was unsure whether that was a good or a bad thing. On one hand, if she wasn't talking, this evil persona she'd taken on was contained and couldn't hurt the others. But on the other hand, without words pouring out of her mouth at the rate of water from a fountain, Serra was just not…Serra. She truly did look like 'Arres' now, Dorcas thought, striding forward so irately with a silent scowl on her face and a hint of evil calculation in her eye. She was planning something it was clear, something deliberately wicked purely to prove that she wasn't the same Serra that the others had resented. She was like a coiled snake, ready to strike at any instant, and he couldn't take his eyes off her until she did.

It came when they stopped to rest, mid-morning. Once everybody had stretched and were seated on the grass, chatting in their own little groups, Serra stood on top of a rock and clapped her hands to get their attention. Dorcas knew the brewing storm was about to be unleashed and braced himself of it.

"Hear me, hear me! May I have everyone's attention? I've got an announcement to make!"

Everyone looked over to her curiously, wondering what was so important that it merited the whole group hearing. "Maybe she's announcing her departure," Matthew murmured to the men next to him.

"Too much to hope for," Erk whispered back.

Unable to hear the cruel remark, Serra continued, "I've decided to make a big change my system to improve efficiency."

"Your system?" Lyn queried. The faces of the others asked the same question. It sounded sinister.

"Yes, my system of healing," she drew herself up with her hands behind her back and spoke to them formally. "I have decided that in the interests of preserving my staff, any non-essential healings will now come with a charge of twenty gold pieces a whack."

Cries of protest erupted from the group. Pay for healing? Unthinkable! There was so much wrong with the idea. It was unnecessary, discriminatory and entirely selfish. They roared as much to her and demanded an explanation. Serra shouted them down, having to bellow to beat them.

"Don't whinge! It's for you own good! Think about it – if my staff breaks because I've been healing you lot, I'll need to be able to buy a new one or else I won't be able to heal anyone else when I really need to. It's common sense!" She added a pause so she could stare them down. "What's more, it means you'll think twice before getting yourself hurt which can only be a good thing, right?"

Predictably, she failed to convince the group of the new system's merits. Frowns on their faces, they began to murmur amongst themselves. Not only was this system notoriously unfair (where was Nils going to get twenty gold pieces from?), it was also insubordination, directly undermining Davidos's authority. As the tactician, it was him who would normally decide how she allocated her resources. Unfortunately, everyone knew he would be too meek to speak against her. So it was left to the other leader to make a stand for the group.

Lyn stepped forward, gesturing pleadingly with both hands. "Serra, we should have enough group funds to repair your staff, or buy a new one if need be. There's really no need to make people pay for treatment."

Serra shook her head, not interested in her pleas however rational they were. "I'm sorry, my new system stands and is effective as of right now!"

"Serra…" Lyn breathed hopelessly. She didn't say anything more, just backed down despondently, for though she wasn't as submissive as Davidos, she wasn't one to stamp down her authority either (after all, most of the time she didn't even _have _to). Dorcas chided her for it in his mind. Serra could have used a good slap in the face right about now.

The group dispersed again then, their protests gradually fading to discontented grumbles. Though they clearly resented this new system of Serra's, they couldn't exactly force her to change it. Serra had a monopoly on healing powers within the group. Twenty gold pieces was steep, but it was still far cheaper than a vulnerary. For now, her system would stand.

"Damn it," he heard Wil murmur beside him. "Wish I'd gotten her to check out my damn back before she dropped that bird-shit on our laps,"

Erk shrugged. "At least she's conducting herself with a little dignity for a change," he replied. "It's refreshing."

"Too true," Matthew agreed. "And you can't fault her logic. Maybe, she's finally taking a turn for the better!"

Dorcas allowed himself a private grunt. _"If you only knew."_Such a reaction from them was curious though. Did the lads really preferthis Arres to the original Serra?Had Serra been right on that count?__

He dismissed the thought._ "It doesn't matter what they think. Even if Arres is better for them, it's already clear that she's not better for Serra."_

Just then Rath turned up with a good reason to change the subject. The mounted nomad must have gone on ahead to scout around when the others had stopped, for he was now trotting back towards them at an urgent pace. He reigned in his horse and stopped a little distance from Lyn, his face as stonily solemn as it always was.

"There are armed men on this road. About twenty, with swords," he grunted.

Lyn nodded as she rose to her feet. "I see. Thank you Rath," She turned her head to consult their tactician. "How do you want to play it Davidos?"

"Oh!" he replied, dropping the book he'd been reading (or at least pretending to read to disguise the fact he wasn't dealing with the Serra situation). "Well, this pass gives us a good bottleneck. We'll just form a line and let them come to us. Rath, Wil, get up on the sides and hit them from above. Nils, Ninian, stay well back. Matthew, stay with them,"

"With pleasure!" the thief chuckled with a mocking bow. "Now that we have to pay to get fixed up, I'll be glad to stay away from the action!"

"And Kent, Florina," Davidos continued. "You two try and get behind them and attack from there."

"Good ol' pincer, eh?" remarked Sain.

"Go with what works," Kent said with a shrug.

"Okay, good luck everyone!" Lyn called as the team dispersed to take up their assigned positions. "Remember, don't attack until you're certain they're hostile!"

Erk snorted. "Since when have we met _nice_ armed groups on the road?" he murmured sardonically. Sain and Matthew chuckled at that.

Sure enough the group came and sure enough it was hostile and attacked them on sight. But Lyn's band were prepared for them with eager weapons and buckets of confidence. After all, they had fought and won many a battle of late and this small skirmish against mediocre opposition wasn't about to be the one they lost.

_"What fools." _Dorcas mused as he dug his axe into the chest of his first opponent to make him a corpse. "_How can so many be willing to die for an unworthy cause?"_ He shoved the dying body to one side so he could advance. His axe, powered by battle fury and sheer monstrous strength, spun like wildfire, scattering and shattering his foes as though they were empty bottles.

_"If I die here, I won't be able to go back to Natalie. That is why I must win and you must fall. No hard feelings."_

He was jerking his axe out of the collarbone of his third downed opponent when he heard Lucius' sudden cry. "Look out! They have mages with them!"

The warning came too late for an intense burst of flame exploded to Dorcas's right, the same second. It hadn't been close enough to harm him, but Erk, standing next to him, had taken a heavier hit. Parts of him were painfully singed, though he was still standing and fit for battle, as his own retaliating fireball proved when it set the enemy mage into flames. He did fall back after that though and Dorcas stepped in to cover him.

"Serra!" he heard him shout. "Heal me now!"

"Hold your horses. I'm coming," Serra tottered over to their position, taking her own time. He couldn't see her, but could feel her scrutinising gaze scan the young mage, and the consequent shake of her head.

"Second-degree burns are non-essential injuries," she stated, almost apologetically. "That will twenty gold if you please."

Erk was enraged of course. "Stop playing games!" he barked. "I'm wounded! Be useful for once in your life and heal me!"

"Twenty gold," Serra repeated coldly. "If you don't have the cash on you, I'll be happy to put it on your tab."

"Bitch!" Erk yelled. "I'll never pay you!"

Having heard the exchange, Dorcas grimaced. Such an argument could turn this supposedly simple skirmish into a disaster if fate went the wrong way. Unwilling to take that chance, he took his next opponent's blade on his axe and used the bought time to rip his pouch off his belt and hurl it behind him.

_"Erk!__ Vulnerary in the bag!"_ he yelled, even as he surged forward to put his oppressor off balance. He couldn't hear any reply over the sounds of battle, but could sense the mage retrieve the gift and (he fancied) a grateful nod in his direction. Then a moment later, Erk was at his side again, deadly flames erupting from his fingers to engulf one of the few foes left standing.

The fight ended soon after that. The enemy had been routed, the few survivors throwing down their arms and fleeing. Another fine victory had been won, with no casualties. Lyn had barked at Kent and Sain to cease when they had started after them – they would let them go, for they were a band of justice, not ruthless butchers. Acts of such mercy assured them that they stood on far higher ground than their brutish adversaries could ever hope to.

Grunting in the satisfaction of an easy victory (which admitted could have been easier if not for a certain petulant act by their healer's alter-ego) Dorcas mopped his brow, then wiped the blood off his axe with the same cloth. As he tended his weapon, Erk came up and gave him a friendly slap on his bulky shoulder.

"Thank you for that Dorcas. It's good to know we can always count on you," he said, bowing his head in gratitude. "Unlike someone I know," he added, with an acid glare Serra's way.

Serra tilted her head back and looked down her nose at him. "If you didn't want to pay, you shouldn't have gotten yourself hurt so quickly. That makes sense doesn't it?"

"Quiet you!" he snapped. "I don't know what your game is, but I know for certain that we don't need a healer that isn't going to heal us!"

She just stuck her tongue out at him. Erk growled in outrage and stalked off, red anger steaming off him.

With Erk's withdrawal, came Lyn's advance, impeccably timed. Clearly she saw the need to act, now that Serra's little rebellion had counted against them in a battle. After all, what if someone died from 'non-essential' injuries in the confusion of a major melee? Lyn wouldn't want that on her conscience and wouldn't want Serra to have it on hers either.

She came up beside her, rested a kind hand on her shoulder and smiled as though she'd just come over for gentle small talk, not a much-needed counselling session. "Hi Serra," she said cheerfully.

Serra replied only with a grave look that made a simple demand – 'Stop patronising me and for God's sake remove your hand before I get nasty.'

Lyn got the message and tempered her tone with concern. "I just wanted to see if you're all right. There isn't anything bothering you, is there?" She made the question sound perfectly innocent.

The pink-haired girl feigned surprise (though she was fooling no-one). "Me? Oh no I'm fine. Hunky-dory. Not a worry in the world."

"Really?" Lyn replied, giving her lower-lip an anxious chew. "Because you seem a little…" she struggled for the honest, yet tactful, phrase. "Out of sorts,"

Serra shrugged defiantly. "No I'm not. This is me. This is what I'm like." When she turned back to her, her eyes held warning. "Stop bothering yourself with imaginary problems."

"But Serra…"

The cleric went on the counter-attack before Lyn could regroup. "Why are you wasting time interrogating me when nothing's wrong? Don't you have important leader-type things to be doing now? I'm sure you have more pressing concerns than bothering me like this."

Lyn had a response ready this time. "A leader looks out for her troops first," she recited with a weak smile.

"Well, don't bother. I'm absolutely fine."

"If you say so," said Lyn doubtfully, seeing that persisting was futile. "But you know, if there _is_ something wrong, you can always come to me. Or if you just want to talk, I'm always around. Keep me posted, okay?"

"Don't wait by the letterbox," Serra murmured before suddenly striding away without looking back. Lyn watched her go, pursing her lips helplessly.

"What's come over her?" she wondered aloud.

Florina had drifted over by now, drawn to Lyn's side as ever. She avoided looking directly at Dorcas though, using Lyn as a shield between him and her. "Um, maybe it's….it's…you know," she stuttered, a little uncomfortably.

"Hmm? What's that Florina?" Lyn asked.

The silver-haired girl anxiously checked both ways then stood up on tiptoes to whisper something in Lyn's ear. She listened with a nod, then her eyes widened in comprehension.

"Oh my, that's a good thought. Maybe it _is_ her time to bleed…"

Florina instantly flushed and looked away. She hadn't wanted it to be said out loud, especially in the presence of a big scary man.

"Would it that it was so simple," Dorcas grunted. "But the problem's in her mind. Not…anywhere else."

The girls' eyes snapped to him curiously. "Do you know something Dorcas?" Lyn inquired.

Dorcas raised his head to gaze at Serra, who was now shouting at Matthew for some reason. His eyes were distant as he said, "She believes she can solve Serra's problems by becoming someone else. She doesn't realise that by doing so she's creating a whole new batch of problems for herself. Problems that can only be resolved by returning to her former self," He snorted derisively. "She's a child. An irrational child with no perspective to speak of. Someone needs to set her right."

"Yes, that's true," Lyn said with a nod. "But how?"

As if he knew. With an indifferent shrug, he replied, "That's _your_ department, Mistress Lyn. I'm just hired muscle." He hauled his axe onto his shoulders to accentuate the point, then turned and walked away. Part of him was relieved that that the problem had been transferred, rightfully, into Lyn's capable hands. But another part of him was uneasy, wondering if those capable hands were actually capable enough for the challenge at hand.

_"Will she be able to set her right? I don't know," _he musedwith a frown.__

_"I have the feeling it'll take more than just a pep talk to bring the old Serra back." _

Perhaps the Serra problem had been passed from him to its rightful owner, but all the same he made a silent vow to keep an eye on the things. For though he was only hired muscle as he had said, he had a responsibility as a man of decency to see that the situation was resolved to a satisfactory conclusion. One which brought their Serra back to them, and happily so.


	4. IV

**A/N – Thanks for the continued reviews you guys!**

The rest of the day's march was very miserable indeed. The moment they'd cleared the final dead body from the road, the heavens burst wide open and pelted them with tiny wet missiles. With no shelter near by, they had little choice but to press on and bear the brunt of the storm with sodden cloaks and dripping noses. Though the road was firm enough to avoid becoming muddy, puddles accumulated on it quickly, so before long their boots were soaked through as well making the afternoon all the more wretched. It seemed as though they'd lost the sunshine as well as Serra, Dorcas mused. Was gloom all their future held?

Despite the pleas from the group, Lyn refused to call an early night (what was a little rain to such a fine band of warriors, she had exclaimed. Of course, her life on the plains had given her a greater tolerance for the weather than most though). So they trudged on underneath the grey sky, their faces falling along with the rain. It was dark by the time they finally set up camp, but the soft muddy ground meant their tents were precariously anchored and Dorcas had commented that a strong wind in the night would flatten the lot. Florina, Nils and Ninian had all blanched at the thought.

Once they'd made camp, everyone crowded around the campfire (which they'd only able to start with the help of Erk's magic and a _lot_ of patience) to dry off their sopping clothing while Lyn and Kent struggled valiantly to get the meal cooked and dished up before the rain started up again. They failed on that count, but it was a heroic effort nonetheless.

The weather's gloom was infectious so conversation was sparse and glum. Of all of them, only Erk seemed to have any energy and he was using it to emphatically rant about his favourite grievance.

"If she demands that we pay for healing, by the same logic shouldn't she pay for protection?" he proclaimed with a scowl.

His two buddies smiled to each other. Erk's bad temper was amusing, especially now he was dripping wet to boot. "She's not charging us for essential healings remember," Matthew (ever the sharp one) pointed out. "Arguably, protecting her life is also regarded as essential so it almost works out fairly," He then spread his arms helplessly. "In any case, since we have to fight anyway there's nothing to stop her from free-riding!"

"That insufferable wench," Erk growled. "I can't believe the her nerve! After all, she needs us more than we need her!" He angrily punched his palm with a fist. "I say we take a stand! Put some pressure on her!"

Wil chuckled. "You let her annoy you far too much Erk. Lighten up a little!"

"I can't, not with her around!" he snapped. "Whether she's merry or mean, that pest is the _bane of my life!"_

He spoke that last comment too loudly and Serra, standing only a short distance away, was able to catch it. Her nose wrinkled dangerously as she strode straight into their circle, hands indignantly on hips. She bent down in front on the mage, so that their scowling faces were no more than a few inches apart.

"What's the matter Erk? You have something to tell the class?"

Erk bowed his head, not in shame but to hide the cold fury in his eyes. "Not a thing," he murmured darkly. "I have nothing to say to you right now Serra."

"Is _that so?"_ Serra said – it was an accusation. She bowed down further, arms furiously folded, to seek out his eyes. He didn't shy from her this time and brought his head up so their fiery gazes met and burned together. A cold war with plenty of heat raged between them, as hostile as could be without blows involved. And indeed, it seemed as though only their different genders were preventing that.

"Hey everyone! The stew's ready!" Lyn called, breaking the fuming staring contest with impeccable timing (Dorcas applauded her in his mind for that). At her call, the team scrambled for food and formed a disorderly line – with Matthew at the front as usual of course. As she dished up dinner, Lyn took a quick scan of the group and, seeing she was missing, asked, "Does anyone know where Florina is?"

"Oh yes," Sain breathed with comic wistfulness. "She's in my mind every waking hour and in my dreams every sleeping one." Kent snorted in disgust and turned his back on his fellow knight.

"Florina?" Davidos said, peeping over the book in his hands. "Oh I asked her to quickly scout out the road ahead. I told her not to be too long though. She should be back soon enough."

Just as he spoke of the devil (or perhaps angel would have been more befitting to someone so innocent?) and there she was in the sky on her steed, flying their way. But their flight had none of their usual grace. Instead it was juddering, with Makar rising and dipping erratically and a very distressed Florina vainly struggling for control. The pegasus was ignoring her efforts to pacify her and, with a thunderous _neigh_, soared up one last before plummeting, alarmingly, in their direction.

"Whoa Makar whoa! _Watch out!_"

Like a falling meteorite, pegasus and rider plunged into the group. The more agile members sprang away quickly to avoid collision. Fortunately everyone was able to get clear before she crashed. Everyone save one that is, who took the full force of the impact and was hurled forward to _splat_ face-first into the mud. She lay on her front motionless for a moment while every else held their breaths. Dorcas (who'd been out of range, luckily enough) swallowed nervously as he foresaw what was coming.

_"Merciful God.__ She hit _her_ of all people. Such misfortune could not have been scripted," _

Florina, having finally wrestled some sense into her restless steed, was gaping down at her crash victim in horror. She awkwardly dismounted and hurried over to her, her face pale with concern.

"Oh Miss Serra! You're not hurt are you?"

Slowly, threateningly slowly, Serra hauled herself out of the mud with a satisfying _squige_. Dark, wet mud was plastered all the way down her – no part of her white garb had been spared. Her face, her hair too – the dirt was _everywhere_. It was comical just how messy her pristine appearance had become in a second, so much so that the three boys had their hands clamped over their mouths, desperately trying to stifle their laughter (Matthew was red-faced and bent-double in the attempt). Dorcas though gritted his teeth as he prepared for the inevitable firework display their healer was about to put on.

Wordlessly, she wiped at the mud on her face, her back still to the little Pegasus knight. There was silence as everyone held their breaths at once. Everyone knew that this accident would have been enough to anger the old Serra, let alone the nasty new one.

Sure enough, when she turned around in one sharp twist, they saw the fiery eyes of a demon.

Florina shrieked and recoiled in terror. "I…I…I…I'm so sorry, Miss Serra!" she blurted, frozen solid except for her fidgeting fingers before her mouth. "The rain…it…it confuses her…um,"

Serra took a step towards her. Then another. Her breathing was heavy and threatening. Her burning eyes were still on the pegasus knight. Then suddenly, terribly, she began to yell.

"You stupid…..clumsy…..._miscreant!_Look at my dress! Just_ look at it!" _she screeched in a voice that could shatter bottles.She advanced wrathfully on the smaller girl, who backed away accordingly. "This was my _absolute favourite_ one as well. Do you know howmuch it cost me? How much time it's going to take to wash it? How it's never going to be properly white again? Huh? _Do you?"_ she demanded, towering terrifyingly over her."Answer me you dingbat!"

Florina's mouth flapped like a flag in the wind, but no sound was forthcoming beyond pathetic peeps. "I…I….I….I…"

Serra was pitiless and cocked her head harshly. "What, can't you answer me? Are you stupid as well as clumsy? Or has your dumbness made you literally dumb?" When no response came, she leaned in closer. "Heh. Guess I shouldn't expect anything more from _Miss Useless_ now should I?"

The tiny girl had gone ghostly white now. Her pallid lips were trembling like a toddler's, as were her eyes, which were rapidly filling up with tears. Serra noticed this and, with a cruel sneer, went in for the kill.

"Oh? She's going to cry now! Ha, that's _Miss Useless_ for you!" she declared viciously. She then furiously shooed her with a sharp hand motion. "Go on, begone! Go and cry into Lyn's skirt like you always do when the going gets tough, just like the pathetic child you are!"

That did it for Florina. She whimpered something that could have been another apology, but then turned and fled, gasping sobs trailing in her wake.

"Florina!" Lyn called, extending a concerned hand after her. She made to follow her but stopped long enough to give their heated healer a cross look. "Serra, that was horrible!" she exclaimed before darting off to comfort her best friend.

An awful silence descended on the group. Serra was taking hot, heavy breaths, still smouldering like a fading fire that would flare up again if stoked. Erk was staring at her icily, while Wil, Kent and Sain were all expressionless, not knowing how to react. Sneaky Matthew had slipped quietly away during the exchange. Nils and Ninian looked nothing short of terrified and had backed away to the safe distance, lest they would incur Serra's terrible wrath if any closer.

Suddenly she turned on them all. "What are you all looking at?!" she demanded. "Have you never seen an idiot be scolded before? Sheesh! A bunch of dolts like you should be familiar with the sight." She smirked but without humour. Too angry for that.

Wil coughed. "You went too far there Serra," he murmured, with admirable courage. He wasn't laughing anymore, no-one was.

Erk, not one to miss a chance to criticise Serra, coldly seconded him "That was appalling, to scold her so harshly for what was just an accident," he said. "Very unbefitting a cleric. Let me tell you, when you've both calmed down you owe her a grovelling apology."

Well, that sloshed fuel onto Serra's fire in buckets.

_"I don't owe any of you anything!"_

The piercing scream had their hands dashing for their ears. Then Serra's breathing doubled to short sharp gasps, two to the second. Tears were really falling now, she couldn't stop them. Anger, anguish, guilt and boundless self-pity contorted her face, just as they were doing to her soul.

_"She's feeling it. The true cost of being Arres,"_ Dorcas noted. His brow furrowed, a sudden grim determination rising in his eyes. _"That does it! Things cannot continue like this. It's time for me to take charge."_

Hefting his axe onto his shoulders he advanced past the others to stand before her. His hulking form totally dwarfed the delicate healer and the brutal axe he carried (by itself longer than Serra was tall) made their relative positions in terms of power perfectly clear. Those tiny eyes of his were utterly devoid of emotion as he spoke.

"You. You're coming with me," he said impassively.

Serra wiped her face and looked up. As besieged as she was by personal demons, she somehow managed to sound undaunted as she bravely faced up to him. "I don't want to," she mumbled defiantly. Tears still rested on her cheeks.

"Wasn't a question," he murmured back. "Will you come willingly or do I have to drag you? It's your decision."

Serra didn't deign him a reply. She just folded her arms and turned her back on him, like a sulking toddler who hadn't got her own way.

"Dragging you it is then."

Without even pausing, he extended a muscular arm and wrapped it around her waist. She yelled in disbelief as he effortlessly hauled her onto his shoulders and held her there. As he began to carry her away, she screamed shrilly and desperately hammered her fists into his back.

"Unhand me now you brute!" she shrieked. "Help me! Mugger! Kidnapper! Rapist! Help me! Someone _help me!_"

Her blows were like rain on a fish and Dorcas barely felt them at all. Her cries were more effective though – the honourable men of the band not the kind to ignore such pleas for aid. Kent and Sain went to block him, the hands wavering by their sword-hilts. They were stopped by a gesture from Lucius though, who stepped forward in front of Dorcas himself.

"Dorcas? What are you intentions?" he asked. It was a curious (and concerned) question, not a demand.

The axe-man gave him a dismissive wave. "I'm not going to harm her. Leave this to me, I'll set her right."

Lucius handsome face was doubtful, but nonetheless he nodded and stepped aside for him, Kent and Sain doing likewise. Dorcas acknowledged them with a slight dip of the head as he passed them, the struggling sage still on his shoulder. He left the group and headed for a patch of woodland next to which they'd made camp. The faces that watched him go were dubious. Few believed that he could bring Serra back around. But all agreed he merited a try. Honest Dorcas had earned their trust with the unfaltering reliability he'd shown in all their endeavours since joining. The least he deserved was a chance at this, even if he was doomed to failure.

**A/N – I'm willing to bet you've never seen Serra act like that in _any_ fanfic _ever!_ :-)**


	5. V

**A/N – Well, here's the key scene of the story and it's far longer than any of the preceding parts! I liked how it turned out, hope you guys do to!**

**Pegasusmon**** – Thanks for the criticism. But I stand by my characterisation of Wil. I confess haven't read any of his support conversations (I didn't use him when I played the game and scripts of support conversations seem impossible to find on the net surprisingly) I understand he's a friendly guy even if he does lack personality. Thing is Erk's the one being mean to Serra, the other two are just following along in good humour (observe how they act in the rest of the fic, especially at the beginning of part 4). The key thing you have to remember is that you're hearing Wil say those mean words _through Serra!_ Serra who's blowing her worries all out of proportion. I give you an example of how the conversation that she overheard might have played out:-**

**_Wil__ and Matthew, lying lazily on the grass together, looked up as Erk came over, kicking a stone ahead of him. "Hey Erk, why the long face?" Matthew inquired. _**

**_Erk paused long enough to hoof the pebble into the stream next to them. "That Serra," Erk he growled. "I'm getting really tired of her attitude."_**

**_"You are? Heh, don't blame you mate," Wil chuckled. "She is a lot to take, isn't she? I have to say she's one of the most annoying people I've ever met!" _**

**_"Too right there!" Matthew added sitting up. "Sure a little chirpiness is good now and then, but seeing all her grinning like a loon all the time really starts to grate on you, you know?" He leaned back down again and smiled wryly to the sun. "Reckon I'd sooner eat a cowpat than see that smile of hers again!"_**

**Or something along those lines.**** And of course Serra heard that and made it a hundred times worse in her head. Okay, maybe that wasn't clear in the story but that was how I saw it. I should probably have made that clearer. Still, you may have a point of sorts, maybe I have been taking too many liberties with certain characters. I'll be sure to take more care on that for the rest of the fic.**

**NOSFER – How many times? THIS...FIC…IS…NOT…SHOUJO…AI! If you want your fill of Lyn/Florina goodness, there are bound to be other fics out there which better satisfy your needs! :-) **

**Timmycheese**** – You know, I'm actually glad you said that. When I was posting it I was worried that it wasn't offensive _enough_!**

**Cheetah7071 - There's actually some debate about this. I researched it and found that some people thought it was Makar and others, Huey. I went with Makar because Huey's a boy's name and I'm pretty sure that Florina refers to it as a 'her' (unless the game script I have is mistaken)!**

The canopy protected them from the worst of the rain, but unpredictable drips still dropped down around them, slipping off the leaves and branches above. The air smelt of wet soil and the ground was squelched atrociously underfoot. It all spoke of the autumn that was coming, following a summer that in Dorcas' opinion hadn't lasted long enough.

By now Serra had realised how pointless her struggles were and was lying still, seemingly resigned to whatever his plans for her were. Though Dorcas could sense her silent sulking, he was certain she was glad not to have to wade through this muddy track (not that she could have _been_ much dirtier after that Florina incident). He carried her into a tiny clearing which, with an absent nod, he deigned suitable for their purposes. There were enough branches above to shelter them and a fallen tree on which to sit. It was damp from the drips of course, but it was better than standing in the mud.

He spotted what seemed to be the least muddy patch and set her down there as gently as he could, not wanting to add injury to the insult. The moment her feet touched the ground, she became animated again. Despite her performance earlier today and her futile struggle, she still found some energy to shout at him.

"You big, stupid _fink!_" she yelled at up him. "How _dare_ you touch me!? How _dare_ you carry me off like some cheap whore!?"

Dorcas stayed stoic. "I'm sorry if I caused offence but I did give you a fair choice. You could have chosen to walk here by your own will," he reminded her. "Now cease your babbling. I need to talk to you."

"Well _I_ don't want to talk to _you_ so nuts to that!" she replied tartly, sticking her tongue out at him. "I'm going back right now so don't you try and stop me."

"If you walk away now, I'll just carry you back again and as many times as it takes you to listen to what I have to say," Dorcas said gravely. "Please stay awhile, for your own dignity at least."

She glared furiously at him, but knew the score. It wasn't even worth trying – he was so much bigger than she was. Huffing crossly, she seated herself on the damp log and folded her arms, very much like the petulant child she so often resembled.

Dorcas shoved a hand into his pocket to retrieve his handkerchief. "Here," he said offering it to her. "Wipe your face."

She took it from him – the lost pride of doing so was neatly offset by the ego boost a clean face would bring. She opened it out and wiped her cheeks firmly, removing the grime and effectively ruining the handkerchief, before returning it to him with a shaking hand. By now she appeared to have calmed down and, pale, grubby and shivering as she was, looked especially fragile. Taking pity on her, Dorcas removed his cloak and placed it about her shoulders (it enveloped her almost completely – she could have used it for a tent) and then offered her his water-pouch.

"Water?"

"I'd prefer a glass of wine right now," Serra said, taking it anyway.

"I didn't realise clerics were allowed to drink."

"We're not."

"Ah."

She returned his water-pouch and he replaced it on his belt. "We have to sort this out now," he murmured. "Everyone's tired of this charade, you most of all I believe."

"That's true," Serra replied quietly. "But how? Things are just so messed up now."

Dorcas propped himself against the tree opposite her and folded his arms. His head was inclined gruffly towards the ground as he spoke. "You thought you can solve your problems by becoming someone else, by becoming this Arres," he started. "But no-one can change who they are. No-one should have to either."

"Really?" Serra asked.

"Yes, really," he replied with a simple nod. "Everyone has their own beliefs, values and personality traits which can't just be thrown away by a change of your façade. We all have them. Some good qualities, some bad ones and some which can be considered either way. They're all there and all precious, for they make up who we are. Take myself for example," he continued, thrusting a thumb his own way for emphasis. "I'm just an honest oaf with muscles for brains. I'm no great thinker, an even worse conversationalist and seemingly cold to anyone who doesn't know me well. But I take care of my wife, work hard and fight for a good cause if one comes along. It's not a world-shaking life I lead but I'm satisfied with what it is. And I won't let anyone tell me that it is anything but meaningful."

Serra sighed and smoothed out her dress. "It's _different_ for you Dorcas," she said. "You can say that because you _have_ a meaningful life. You've got a wife who loves you and friends who respect you. But not everyone's like you," She rested her head glumly in her hands. "Some of us are just worthless."

"No. No-one in this world is worthless. And certainly not you."

"Yes I am. Everyone hates me," she sniffed.

"We don't hate you. Not in the least," he said, facing her now. "It's Arres who we hate."

Serra looked up, but away from him to hide her face. "I hate her too. I loathe her with all my heart."

"Of course you do. She's done you no favours," he said. "So why don't you become Serra again?"

She shook her head slowly. "I don't want to be Serra either. People don't like her."

"That's a lie," he replied. "The greatest lie you'll ever tell I imagine. And I'm going to prove it."

"How?" Serra asked looking around at him. There was a spark of curiosity beyond the gloom in her eyes and just a tiny touch of hope.

With a grunt, Dorcas lugged himself off the tree and took a step towards her. "I'm going to show you that Serra is a good person who you should be honoured to be," he murmured. He heaved his axe off his shoulders and, gripping its handle firmly with both hands, rested its head on the log next to her, blade down and threatening to cut. "We're going to list your good points."

Serra's shrug was unconvinced. "Okay. But I don't think we're going to find very many."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself and think."

"I can't think of anything," she replied instantly. It was obvious that she hadn't even tried. Dorcas forced patience and started for her.

"Let's begin with the easy ones then. To start with, you're a healer." He brought the axe back over his head before sending it thundering down into the log before him. Serra jumped off her seat with a squeak of surprise, barely avoiding the tiny splinters sent her way by the impact. Paying no attention to her astonishment, Dorcas hauled his trusty weapon out of the wood leaving a neat mark scored where his axe-blade had been. "There isn't a more noble profession than healing the wounded," he continued, replacing the axe on his shoulders.

She shrugged as she retook her seat on the log, a little further along from where he'd struck his mark. "It's no big deal," she said. "All I do is wave the staff and cast the heal spell."

"All the same, you chose to learn that spell so that you could help people," he said. "Is that not true?"

She pursed her lips, as if reluctant to take the compliment. "I _guess_ so," she conceded finally.

"Damn right it's true," Dorcas assured her. "That's the first one. What else is there?"

"You tell me," she replied unhelpfully, sitting back on the log with one leg clutched to her. He wasn't sure whether she was being lazy from depression or merely fishing for more praise.

"How about your positive influence on the group?" he suggested. The axe came down again with another deafening _crunch_ to add another mark next to the first one. "We rely on you to brighten our spirits when the day is gloomy," he continued "You're always so cheerful whatever happens and seeing you that way spurs us on. Your optimistic nature inspires us, helping us to put our problems in perspective and see the rays of light that remain whenever darkness comes,"

"Well…" Serra murmured, tipping her head back as she considered this.

"It's true," Dorcas added. "See how we've suffered without it this past day? We need your cheerfulness as much as we need Lyn's leadership, Kent's blade and Davidos's tactical know-how."

A nod from her convinced him that he was making progress. "Now," he said, sensing the time was right. "It's _your_ turn to suggest one."

She sat up and stared thoughtfully to the boughs above them, a fingertip resting on her soft pink lower-lip. She was playing the game now, was actually putting some effort into this brainstorming session. "Well," she said eventually. "I _do_ have incredible fashion sense. Only an utter fool would deny that."

"Hard to believe when you're covered in mud," Dorcas remarked, before realising how unhelpful that comment was.

Fortunately she saw the funny side, her chuckle becoming a gasp. "Why, I didn't realise you had a sense of humour Dorcas," she murmured. "But mud or no, I have better taste in clothing than _any_ girl in the group. And you can print that!" She was wearing a smile of sorts now.

"Okay, it goes on the list." Dorcas marked it down with another notch on the log. Personally, he didn't care much for fashion but if it was important to her, then it counted. After all, everyone had their priorities.

She was brightening up by now, he noticed. The edges of her mouth had turned upwards a tiny fraction, just enough to turn her frown into a weak smirk. It was progress for sure. Dorcas decided it was time to go for jugular.

"Let me get a few quick ones down to speed things along," he said, readying his axe again. "To start with, you're a pretty girl,"

_Chop_.

"You love to travel."

_Chop_.

"You have a fantastic sense of humour,"

_Chop._

"You're always willing to talk with people,"

_Chop_

"Yet despite your sociable nature, you have a kind of charming mysteriousness to you."

_Chop. _

"We're running out of log,"

He was right. The whole length of the log was scored now, there was no room for any more notches. Serra gaped at them in wonder, clearly wondering how she'd racked up so many.

"Quite a few of them, aren't there?" Dorcas said, "Each one of those marks is one of your good points. I would have trouble cutting more for anyone else I know," He let the head of the axe fall into the ground and fisted his hip. "Now can you _really_ tell me that Serra is a bad person?"

She leaned her head to one side as she considered this, absently twisting a pink ponytail around her finger. He had broken through to her stubborn mind, that much was clear. But there was still a loose strand that was bothering her, he could tell, and she revealed it to him emphatically. "But Erk doesn't _like_ me when I'm Serra!" she wailed, dramatically casting her hands up in the air.

Dorcas paused. "His opinion means a lot to you doesn't it?" he murmured wryly.

Serra's cheeks reddened and she hid them with her hands. "Well…yes. I like him a lot."

"I thought as much. After all, it was his harsh words which began this whole mess," he said. "But all the same, as much as they matter to you, you can't live you life for someone else's opinions. If Erk can't like you for what you are, then he is not a friend worth having," He stepped towards her and crouched down, levelling his eyes with hers. "Always remember that while other people's opinions matter, they only matter insofar as they affect your happiness. You decide how much they affect you. But no matter what, they are never as important as your own self-esteem."

"Really?" Serra asked with uncharacteristic meekness.

Dorcas nodded. "You never have to apologise for being yourself. For yourself is the only person you know how to be. You should never change who you are to get people to like you. Instead, you should choose the people you like based on who you really are," He straightened again and took a step away from her. "And you're lucky for there are plenty of people here who like you because you're Serra."

"Like who?" Serra asked, her eyes really curious.

"Everyone likes you," Dorcas replied simply. "Lady Lyndis of course. Nils and Ninian too, especially after you were kind enough to tend Ninian's leg the other night. Kent and Sain both like you…"

"But Sain likes all the girls," Serra pointed out.

"It still counts," Dorcas insisted. "Davidos sees you as a vital part of our team, one of the few members that can't be replaced by someone else. Lucius adores you like a sister. And Florina has a lot of admiration for you too, I've heard her say as much. So never believe that people don't like…."

"What about _you_ Dorcas?" she asked, interrupting him before he could finish. "What do _you_ think of me?"

Dorcas paused. While talking about this deep stuff was no problem, he wasn't so comfortable when it came to dealing with his own feelings, especially around someone who wasn't his Natalie. He took a deep, reassuring breath before answering and chose his words carefully.

"I haven't known you for very long," he said, exhaling. "But you're a wonderful person from what I've seen of you."

Her hands flew to her mouth in delight. "Why Dorcas I…"

That's when the twig snapped.

"Hush!" Dorcas hissed, spreading a palm in her direction. She complied in surprise (was this the first time she'd shut up on demand?) but her curious eyes rested fearfully on him. '_What is it?'_ she mouthed.

He ignored her, cocking his head to listen. There was something unwelcome amongst the background noise of the wood. Yes. Footsteps muffled by wet leaves. Someone was coming there way. And not from the direction of camp. He smelt danger in the air.

Serra's patience wore out. "Dorcas, what _is_ the matter?"

"Damn!" he shouted, suddenly diving forward, left arm snaking around to grab her. A second later they hit the muddy ground, and a second after that, an arrow thudded into the very space she'd been sitting. Her eyes widened in terror as she watched it quiver in the log, inches above her face.

"Dorcas!" she shrieked. "We're…"

"Under attack! Yes!" Dorcas cried, as he scrambled desperately to his feet. Seizing her unceremoniously around the waist, he sprinted for cover. A barrage of fireballs exploded around him as he ran, but miraculously none hit before he dove into a ditch.

_"The stragglers from today.__ They must have followed us,"_ he thought. _"Damn! An archer and a mage! With them working in tandem, it will be a fight hard to win."_

An archer, a mage and someone else too he realised a moment later – there was definitely a third pair of footsteps creeping closer. He could hear them all shuffling around, could tell their relative positions with his keen huntsman senses. They were moving to surround them, one each at nine, one and four o'clock. He couldn't let them catch them in this ditch – they would have to move now.

"I can't fight them," he murmured. "They're long-ranged attackers and well-concealed. We're going to have to make a break for camp Serra. Make sure you hold on tight." He reached out to take hold of her again.

To his surprise, she stepped back defiantly. Then he heard a voice. A voice which he hadn't heard for a while.

"Oh get up Dorcas, you big baby! You're not scared of _those_ three losers are you?"

It was Serra's voice. Arres was gone.

Dorcas exhaled with satisfaction and exasperation in equal measure. While it was nice to hear Serra's optimism again, it was no match for reason.

"If I attack them, I'll be in the open and take a lot of punishment," he grunted. "I'll fall before I can take all three down."

Serra hefted her healing staff, clutching it proudly with both hands. "Oh no you won't," she said. "Not with me by your side."

Dorcas gave this a split-second consideration, before realising there was no more time for choice. By his ears, the enemy was nearly on top of them. It was too late to run now. He gave her a grim nod and a grimmer smile.

"Stay close to me then. Don't let yourself get hurt,"

With that, he surged up out of the trench with a blood-curdling battle-roar.

He was instantly confronted with the enemy archer, who'd been bravely venturing towards the lip of the ditch hoping to find sitting duck trapped there. There was no such luck – he hadn't expected such an abrupt resistance and Dorcas's sudden attack caught him flat-footed and left his skull split. Even before the first drops of blood had hit the ground, Dorcas had twisted and was sprinting for his other two opponents. However they were at a safer distance, shielded by foliage and, to his chagrin, both mages. Powerful ones too, for they were sending a furious firestorm his way. But he ran towards it unfazed, as though defiantly challenging the gates of hell. He could break through this storm, for he had noble Serra supporting him.

The flames scorched him as he plunged through them. He couldn't help but yell as they seared his skin to blackness. But the pain lasted for just a moment, before he was bathed in white light and Serra's magical talents healed his injuries. His body was fighting-fit again in an instant, and he hadn't even had to break his run.

He bore down on his opponent with a roar. The mage gaped stupidly at him, horrified that his powerful attack hadn't downed, or even slowed down, the advancing brute. His panicky hands fumbled to conjure up another spell, but he was cut off as Dorcas's deadly axe cleaved his head right off and sent it toppling into the undergrowth.

Two down, one to go. He changed direction again to head for his final target with brutal battle-rage flaring in his eyes, alive as they only were in the heat of battle. Desperation had taken his last opponent whose arms were flailing madly to bombard him with powerful fireballs. They were terribly accurate, each one striking their mark rigorously, engulfing him in turbulent flames. But all those severe wounds vanished as soon as they were sustained, for Serra was a pace behind him waving her staff like a conductor's baton. Such a mighty warrior with such a gifted healer to support him could not have been stopped by a line of cavalry, let alone a mere mage's magic. Of course, the poor mage knew this and spent the last few seconds of his life screaming in terror. Dorcas's deadly axe slammed down into his head, smashing his skull to smithereens and granting him a mercifully quick death.

And then the fight was over, finished in mere seconds. Dorcas had eliminated the entire enemy without a scratch, thanks to Serra. It was a resounding victory for the good guys.

"Sorry I had to kill you three," he murmured to the corpses as he shouldered his axe again. "But you forfeited your lives when you sought to take ours."

He couldn't spare too much sympathy for his fallen foes (doing so could bring a killer to madness) for his attention now belonged with a certain young woman who'd been brought back to life. Serra was panting with exhilaration and, blissfully, her long-lost smile had reappeared on her face.

"We did it Dorcas! We _did_ it!" she squealed in delight. "What a great team we are!"

He turned to her, then noticed something. "Serra…your staff."

"Huh?" Serra looked down to see that her trusty staff had been reduced to a charred stump with purple wisps of smoke drifting off it. She smiled and tossed it over her shoulder. "Whoopsie-daisy!" she giggled. "Guess I overdid it a bit!"

"Not at all. You kept me alive just as you said you would. I appreciate it," he said. "I'll replace that staff for you the next chance we get," he assured her, wanting to do the honourable thing even though it pained him to take money out of Natalie's pocket.

"Nah, that's all right," Serra said. "I'll get Lyn to buy one for me. She said she would, you heard her say she would, didn't you? And besides," she murmured with a lop-sided grin, "I can't exactly take money off you after what you've just done for me."

"What do you mean?"

"Why Dorcas, you've reminded me of who I am!," she exclaimed, thrusting a triumphant fist into the air with a glorious smile. "I am Serra! Noble cleric of Lycia! Divine flower of Lyndis' band! Most gracious healer whose remarkable talents are surpassed only by her breathtaking beauty! Yes! I am _Serra_"

"Well...I'm glad to see you're feeling better," Dorcas muttered, scratching his head in astonishment. _"Maybe I overdid it. She's more like herself than ever,"_ He gave himself a secret smirk. _"Erk won't thank me for this." _

Serra was grinning at him, baring her mischievous white teeth. "Oh Dorcas! You're so sweet!" she chirped, jumping up at him with outstretched arms. She caught him around the neck and hugged him there, so that she was hanging off, and effectively strangling, him. She looked him up and down without letting go. "You know," she mused. "If you were younger and just a _little_ less rugged I'd seriously consider seducing you!"

Dorcas smirked despite the weight on his neck. "I'll take that as a compliment," he murmured. "But you forget I'm a happily married man."

"Oh pooh! You are, aren't you?" she exclaimed, thrusting her lower-lip out in a mock pout. "Oh well, never mind! But all the same, you do deserve a _little_ reward for your efforts."

With that, she pulled herself up and gave him a quick, forceful kiss right on the lips.

He staggered back as if struck, his tiny eyes doubling in size. The spunky healer was still hanging off his neck, giggling like a playful imp. "Miss Serra!" he gasped in disbelief. "What…do…you…?"

She daintily dropped down and silenced him with a pointed finger. "Hey, don't complain! You've just been kissed by a gorgeous girl! And besides, it's like you say," she added, with a mischievous spark in her eye. "I can't be anyone but myself, can I?"

Despite himself Dorcas smiled. "You're right. I guess I reaped what I sowed now, didn't I?"

She laughed. "Don't worry, I won't tell Natalie," she assured him with a coy wink and a wagging finger. "So long as you're nice to me, that is! _And_ become my vassal for life of course!"

"Not a chance," he replied folding his arms.

"Oh you're no fun!" Serra pouted with petulant hands on her hips. But then her expression softened affectionately on him. "Well I'll let you off this time, Dorky my dear. But only if you do _one last thing_ for me tonight."

"What's that?" he asked hesitantly. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

She giggled like a little girl. "Come with me!" she said, insistently taking his hand and leading him in the opposite direction to the camp, out into the night.

**A/N – Last part coming soon! **


	6. VI

**A/N – Here's the last part of this lil' fanfic.**

**Pegasusmon**** – Thanks loads for sending me that support conversations link! It's a fantastic resource, except for the obnoxious comments the author inserted! Thing is, I've read Wil's conversations all the way through and in my opinion they actually back up my characterisation of him if anything.He's shown himself to be a fairly normal happy-go-lucky guy who can be blunt at times, as I believe I've portrayed him throughout the story. I guess it's all down to interpretation at the end of the day. :-) Still, I admit that his support conversations have shown me that he's a little more interesting than I first thought him.**

**chel**** bel – Maybe it's not surprising you couldn'tvisualise Serra kissing Dorcas – it's not exactly a common occurrence in fanfics! Still, keep in mind it's a playful kiss, not a romantic one. **

**Karlminion**** – You're right. Looking back, Dorcas did talk too much. My excuse is that it was the key speech of the whole story and he had to get the theme across, but I guess I should have taken a bit more care and made it less wordy. Whoops…**

The sun had only just struggled into the sky when Lyndis's troops were awoken the next morning by a strange and urgent shaking of their tents. Some of them (notably Lyn, Kent and Rath) instantly reached for their weapons, believing themselves to be under attack. Others (notably Sain, Wil and Matthew) pulled their blankets over their heads and turned over to doze, not awake enough to care about why the walls were flapping. But though they could sleep through the shuddering of their tents, there was no way they could do so through Serra's shrill wake-up call.

"_Rise and shi-iiiine_ everyone!" she cried cheerfully in a voice like screeching chalk. "Saint Elmine has blessed us with a fine sunny day, so it's time for you all to _rise and shi-iiiine!"_

Groans came from all-round. Even those who had taken up arms threw them down again when they realised that they were being attacked by nothing more than Serra's cheerful nature. Unfortunately for them, determined Serra never gave up until she had her own way.

"Wake up sleepy-heads!" she called again into the tent of a certain purple-haired mage. "Hey Erk I saw you stir, I know you're awake! Damn, he's ignoring me! Shake the tent harder Dorcas!"

"As you command," the axeman murmured. He lifted the end of the tent higher and put all his remarkable strength into one good firm shake which nearly tumbled the occupants out of the tent door. Their startled cries from within proved that they were very much awake.

"Come on you two, time to _rise and shi-iiiine!" _Serra repeated in the same teeth-scrunchingly annoying tone.

The tent flap parted to reveal Erk's grumpy face, which was covered with loose purple hair. His eyes were sunken and tired, but the eyebrows above them were crossly-knit. "If I get up, will you _stop saying that!?_" he yelled at her.

"Why of course I will!" Serra chirped with a smile.

"Fine! I'm up!" His head ducked back in, then the whole of him strode out a few seconds later, hair more orderly and cape clutched irately around him to shield him from the chilly morning air. "Now would you mind telling me why you've seen fit to rouse us at this early hour?" he demanded grumpily.

Serra beamed back at him, seemingly oblivious to his foul mood. "I made breakfast!"

By now, a few more bleary-eyed forms were emerging (Dorcas having shaken a few more tents). They advanced sluggishly like a legion of zombies, but any more annoyed questions were halted by the mouth-watering aroma that hit their nostrils.

"Hey, what smells so good?" Wil asked. Everyone sniffed the air blissfully and asked the same question.

Serra stood before them, hands clasped proudly together and smiling like a cherub. "Grab your plates everyone! It's time for you to enjoy my extra-special 'sorry-for-being-so-mean' pancakes!"

And then she stepped aside to reveal what was a most wondrous sight to the hungry eyes of a luxury-starved travelling band. Set on a table consisting of a few large rocks was a towering mountain of pancakes, the sight and smell of which had their maws trickling like rain-gutters. They were delightfully golden, scrumptiously supple and totally drenched with glorious honey. It was a breakfast sent from the heavens.

"Wow!" Wil exclaimed. "Sure is nice to start the day with something more than hamster food for a change!"

"My goodness. Are they for us?" Lyn asked in disbelief.

"Yep!" Serra replied gleefully. "I made enough for everyone! Even the mean boys can have some!" She turned to the 'mean boys' in question at that remark. "Aren't you grateful, Erky-wirky-woo?"

Time seemed to stop then. Erk's whole face plunged downwards, his horrified mouth dropping open. "Wh-what…did you just call me?" he asked with dread.

Serra replied with an immaculate smile, her eyes two happy crescents. "Erky-wirky-woo! It's your new nickname! I think it suits you perfectly, don't you Erky-wirky-woo?"

Erk's mortified expression said it all. Matthew and Wil instantly burst out laughing, slapping their pal on the shoulder. Other members began to snicker behind their hands as well and even dignified Kent had to smile.

"It _does_ suit you, you know!" Wil chuckled.

"Shut up Wil!"

"Hey, don't get so mad Erky-wirky-woo!" Matthew said, unleashing a fresh batch of hysterics on the group.

Erk grimaced and turned away from them in dismay. "Urgh," he mumbled miserably. "That Serra. Bane of my life as ever."

Serra missed that comment, for she had danced away by then to stand by the bountiful breakfast she'd prepared. "Now come on everyone, don't be shy!" she shouted, picking up a spatula. "Line up to get your portion before they get cold!"

The team were delighted to obey her, scrambling to form a queue (Matthew at the front again, how did he do it?). Serra and Dorcas began to serve them, slapping a couple of pancakes onto each eagerly outstretched plate. Lyn's face lit up radiantly as she received her portion. "Oh Serra, they look wonderful!" she breathed, gazing down at them with near-reverence. "But there was no need to go to all this trouble for us."

"Yes, there was." Serra stated with a rare touch of seriousness in her tone. "I needed to do it to apologise for all the mean things I've done over the last day and a bit." Her face brightened up again as she added, "And it was really no trouble at all, especially with the help of my willing and faithful servant, Dorcas!"

Dorcas, not looking at all comfortable in his role as assistant disher-upper, looked up at that. "No trouble she says," he murmured darkly. "What about last night when we broke into that farm to steal eggs, milk, flour and butter?"

Serra waved the comment off. "That was no big deal for seasoned adventurers like us!"

"And when you knocked an urn over and woke the farmer up?" he added.

"Well…"

"And when he chased us for a mile with a pitchfork, screaming for our blood?"

"Which was _totally_ unreasonable of him," Serra said with a self-righteous finger his way. "After all, we left a little pile of coins by his doorstep didn't we?"

Dorcas went on, deadpan. "And the fact I had to carry you the _whole way_ on my back because you _claimed_ to have a _stitch_?"

Serra theatrically shoved fists into her hips. "Hey, my legs may be silky smooth and delightfully feminine, but they're a whole lot shorter than yours you know!" she stated haughtily. "I can't run as fast as you! That scary farmer would have caught up and put a load of holes in me with his pitchfork! And then every time I tried to drink something, it would have just poured out of them so eventually I would die of thirst and that wouldn't do at all, would it? _Would it Dorcas?"_

"No Ma'am," he murmured submissively.

"Good!" she said, clapping her hands happily. "Now," she continued, hopping up onto one of the 'table' rocks to use it as a podium. "Can I have everyone's attention please? I have an announcement to make!"

"I sure hope it's better news than your last announcement was," Matthew murmured between mouthfuls.

"It sure is!" she chirped. She coughed to clear her throat, tucked her hands behind her back, then spoke.

"After widespread criticism of my new healing system, I've decided to scrap it and go back to the simple old way!" she said, smiling after the statement. "All takings will be refunded and if anyone needs to have wounds looked at, please form an orderly queue in my direction. Although," she snickered. "You'll have to pester Lyn to buy me a new healing staff first!"

Her announcement was received with relieved cheers, especially from those who'd taken knocks in yesterday's fight. "It's all yours Serra," Lyn assured her over the group's grateful applause. "After all, I did promise you as much, didn't I?"

"You sure did!" Serra said as she hopped off the rock again. "And now, while we're still on the subject of healing…" Her gaze flew to a certain green-haired boy. "Nils, let me see your arm!"

"Oh! It's okay Miss Serra," he replied timidly, the memory of last night's Serra haunting him still. "It's feeling a little better now."

"Not until I look at it, it isn't! Give it here!" Serra grabbed his arm insistently and ripped his sleeve back to expose the scratch, which admittedly didn't look as angry as it had before.

"Now!" she announced with purpose. "Hopefully I'll have a little magic left over in these fingers!"

With that, she touched her fingertips to the scratch and they began to glow with white magic. Without her staff her healing powers were considerably weaker than normal but they were still more than enough to heal Nils's scratch, which disappeared in an instant. She grinned in satisfaction and planted a light kiss where the wound had been.

"There you go! All better!"

"T…thank you Miss Serra," he stammered in return.

"Great!" Serra shouted, punching the air. "I'm on a roll! Now who else do I need to apologise to? Oh yes, Florina! Florina, come over here!" She grabbed the young pegasus knight's hand and pulled her over before she could resist. "Since I was really, really horrible to you and said a whole lot of things which I didn't mean, I've decided to give you _seven_ whole pancakes by way of apology!" She gleefully held up the plate on which they were stacked in a pile, dripping with honey with an unhealthy large slab of butter on top.

Florina gasped at her. Both the radical return of Serra's cheery nature and the mere sight of the massive portion she'd been given had caused her eyes to glaze over in shock. "Um…thank you Miss Serra," she blurted. "That's very kind of you, but I don't think I can eat that many by myself."

"They'll go straight to your hips and stay there!" Lyn chuckled.

Serra patted the younger girl encouragingly on shoulder. "Oh don't listen to her, I'm sure a growing girl like you has plenty of room for them! And if not then give them to that clumsy horsey of yours!"

"Hee!" Florina tittered quietly. "She'd never fly again if she ate all those!"

Her final apology given, Serra took her own plate and held up in her fork in salute. "Dig in people!" she called. "May my cooking delight you as much as my company always does!" She smiled at the whole group as they laughed appreciatively and obeyed her command with pleasure. Serra piled a couple of pancakes on her own plate and then danced over to sit by her mage guardian while singing a happy little song of her own creation.

_"Erky-wirky, Erky-wirky-woo! Erky-wirky, Erky-wirky, Erky-wirky-woo!"_

Erk groaned, as everyone else collapsed with laughter around him. "Why _me?_" he appealed to the heavens. "Why am I cursed with her?"

The group settled down to enjoy this special breakfast that Serra had prepared for them. Dorcas surveyed the groups as he tucked into the pancakes he had set aside for himself. The return of their happy healer had restored normalcy and brought the group's spirits back to their usual lofty levels. Amazing, how her nature could have affected their group's dynamic so much. It just went to show how important she was to them.

The scene he saw now could barely have been more typical. Lyn and Davidos were discussing something important regarding the agenda, as ever. Kent was conversing with Lucius. To one side Matthew had just told Nils a filthy joke, though judging by the thief's hearty laughter and Nils's disbelieving gape it had been funnier for the teller than the listener. Rath was off to one side, eating by himself. Ninian was today's victim of Sain's overworked charm, though she was doing her best to politely ignore him. Next to them a chuckling Wil was helping Florina out with her pancakes, skewering a couple straight off her plate. She blushed and looked away from him, but despite that she seemed grateful for the favour.

And Serra…she was Serra again. She was now kneeling in front of a disinterested-looking Erk, trying to feed him a pancake she had wrapped around her fork. She smiled and giggled as she tried to poke it into his mouth, persisting even when he angrily turned around to sit with his back to her. Dorcas grinned as she danced around to the mage's front and, in the attempt to jab it into his mouth before it closed, poked him in the eye with her fork. Yes, Serra was back again, there was no denying it.

_"She may be a little stubborn, a little selfish and more than a little annoying,"_ Dorcas mused. _"But she's our Serra and we wouldn't trade her for anyone else in the world." _

Suddenly that pretty pink healer was running towards him, her pigtails bouncing urgently behind her. "Help me Dorcas!" she squealed, darting behind the colossal axeman to use him as a shield. "Erk's trying to kill me!"

Erk was behind her in furious pursuit, one hand clutching his wounded eye. "You blinded me, you wench!" he snarled. "You're going to get such a hiding when I get my hands on you!"

"You'll never take me alive!" she cried back before giving Dorcas a sharp nudge in the back. "What are you waiting for? Beat him up for me, Dorky!"

The axeman just smiled silently, then apologetically sidestepped giving Erk a clear shot at her. "Yikes! You rotten traitor!" she cried, as she hitched up her dress to run again. Erk flew past him to resume the chase, his one good eye blazing murderously. Dorcas chuckled fondly to himself as he watched the pretty pink healer flee into the forest, an angry mage hot on her heels.

_"Never change Serra. You're wonderful as you are."_

**A/N – My third fanfic done! That completes the hat-trick! :-D Kind of satisfied with how it turned out. I imagine just about everyone will be glad that it didn't become a Serra/Dorcas romance! For the record, it was never going to be – even if Dorcas wasn't married, they're just too different for each other. Besides, Serra is Erk's girl and Erk's alone! :-)**

**The method Dorcas used to bring Serra out of her depression in Part 5 is actually a very effective one. I know from experience, for a dear friend of mine used iton me. If you ever happen to get seriously depressed, draw a spider diagram of all your good points (get a close friend to help you if you can), including your skills, interests, goodstuff in your life and any other positive things you can think of. There're bound to be several, more than you'd think. Then keep it and refer to it when you're down. Trust me, it helps. **

**One freaky thing I just realised – Serra's alter-ego is called Arres, right? Well that sounds just like 'eres' which is Spanish for 'you are', which is the last two words of the story's title! Isn't that cool? :-)**

**Many thanks to all you great people who reviewed! **


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